


Pull Me Like A Ripcord (aka Help, my Sourwolf is an idiot)

by Original_Cypher



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is sorry about the wrong thing, M/M, making amends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 08:56:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Original_Cypher/pseuds/Original_Cypher
Summary: The last thing Stiles expected when he yanked open the front door to his LA flat that evening to berate the incessant knocker was to find a bleary eyed Derek Hale on the other side. Then, it got weirder.





	Pull Me Like A Ripcord (aka Help, my Sourwolf is an idiot)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ememma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ememma/gifts), [possiblywonderful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblywonderful/gifts), [Unicorn91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unicorn91/gifts).



> Title from Whatever It Takes, by Imagine Dragons, that could be Derek’s pov in all of this.

The last thing Stiles expected when he yanked open the front door to his LA flat that evening to berate the incessant knocker was to find a bleary eyed Derek Hale on the other side. Then, it got weirder.

Thanks to wonderful reflexes acquired from growing up in Beacon Hills and joining the LA scene during his college years, alternatively running away from and chasing danger, Stiles’ limbic system analyzed situations like this: Friend: don’t grab bat. Foe: grab bat. Derek: Grab bat, and ask: “Who else do we need?”

Derek blinked back at him, confused. 

That’s when Stiles realized.

This. Was a social call.

Oh, no. 

Oh,  _ hell _ no.

Derek didn't look all that surprised when Stiles slammed the door back in his face.

Stiles stared at the door for a few seconds, gaping, and shook his head. Derek Fucking Hale.

Unbelievable.

“ _ Stiles, come on. _ ” aforementioned nuisance called through the door.

The  _ nerve _ .

He sounded half pleading. The other half was a mix of exasperation and amusement that felt deeply familiar. It was so  _ Stiles and Derek _ as it crawled over his skin that it made Stiles want to smile. It tugged at him, urging him to turn back around and let Derek in.

“Nope!” he called, stomping back through the flat to the living room.  _ Away _ from idiot Sourwolves and their stupid sad faces. 

“ _ Stiles, I came to apologize _ ,” came the muffled yell through the door and the apartment. “ _ I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. _ ”

“Maybe I don’t  _ want  _ your apology,” Stiles grumbled to himself, well aware that if Derek was trying, he could he heard perfectly. “Maybe you’re a bunch of months too late on that one.” He considered turning on Spotify to blast Apologize, because if there was one golden collab in the 2000’s, One Republic and Timbaland was it. But even though 2007 was definitely Derek’s time, he would probably be too obtuse to realise the meaning and simply assume Stiles was drowning him out with sound. The musical sass would be lost on him.

“Stupid Derek… _Nyahhh!!_ ” Stiles let out a yelp of surprise as he walked into his bedroom to find Derek vaulting in through the window. “Are you _kidding me?!_ You _moron!_ I left the front door unlocked!” He stalked to his window and peered outside, flabbergasted at the suicidal tendencies of the people he seemed to attract in his life. Seriously, it was a surprise any residents of BH had made it past twenty. “What the hell did you do, rappel the side of the building?”

“You left the door open for me?”

Derek sounded so surprised, Stiles had to give him an even more sour look. It was insulting, really. “You  _ idiot _ . You’re at my door. What else am I gonna do? It’s  _ us _ .” He crossed his arms and glared at the older man from across the room. “First of all, I know better than to expect you to give up.” He snorted, glanced pointedly at the window Derek just came in through. “Exhibit A.” He sighed. “And really, Derek. Do you really think any of us would ever turn you away? Cause if you do, we’ve been doing this thing wrong for a long time, dude.”

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles smirked, something wolfish and hungry for payback. The bitterness in his gut churned up some fresh anger for him. “Yeah, you did say you came for that. A Derek Hale apology. Those are rare. One more thing I’d let you in for, the chance to see you grovel.” He stepped back so he could hike his butt onto his desk, and waved a hand to Derek before crossing it back under his arm. “Proceed.”

Derek looked amused at Stiles’ antics for the briefest moment, before he grew sombre again. “I’m so sorry, Stiles. Truly. I don’t know how to express it.” Stiles thought his face was expressing it just fine. He looked miserable. “I’ve been a magnet for trouble all my life and I  _ tried.  _ I thought when I met you and Scott, that it would…” He closed his eyes, sighing and running a hand down his face. “I should have known that all I could bring to your lives was more trouble. I’m so sorry I did this to you, Stiles.”

Woah, woah, woah. Hold the fuck up.

“Wait.  _ What? _ ”

Derek blinked at him. His eyes almost glimmered in the relative darkness of Stiles’ room, only lit by the city lights. Was he teary? 

“Oh my  _ god _ , Derek. Are you seriously apologizing for what happened?!” Did he honestly have it all backwards? “For which part exactly? For when you came to us for help or when you ended up saving my life?  _ Again _ . That’s what we  _ do _ , dude. There’s no apologies to give when nutjobs try to kill you. Thanks are nice. I like gift baskets. And cookies. And chocolate… But I won’t let you say sorry, won't let you  _ be  _ sorry that you  _ saved  _ me.”

Derek looked so lost, confused. Stiles huffed angrily and hopped off his desk, pacing instead. “For fucks sake, maybe I should just let you figure it out.” He voiced the threat, but he didn't have the patience to wait for Derek to work it out. It was honestly exasperating to have him be completely off the mark already. “I'm not angry about what happened! I'm angry that you ran away! Without saying goodbye!"

“You were fine,” Derek said, as if it changed anything. “You were all safe. I made sure.” Of course he had. He didn't have to say so,  _ Stiles  _ knew that Derek wouldn’t leave without knowing every one of them was safe or there was nothing left to do. Why couldn't Derek know things like that, too? 

"Without telling me you were leaving!" Like how they had all worried. Like how they all missed him terribly. 

“You were fine,” Derek repeated, uncomprehending.

For fucks sake, how could Derek not recognize when people were attached to him. They all loved him and hurt when he was gone. He still had  _ his  _ chair at the den, dammit.

Stiles rounded on him. “I was  _ not  _ fine Derek. I am not fine.” 

“But you have Scott. You have your pack. I-…”

Derek cut himself off when Stiles let out what could only be described as a snarl. He glared at Derek, eyes flashing bright in the darkness. Angry, vicious fire dancing in them. “I was  _ not  _ fine. And you left. My  _ friend  _ left me. My  _ alpha  _ left me.”

Derek looked positively winded in the wake of Stiles’ outburst. It was more than being chastised. It looked like shock. “No I-...”

“My alpha,” Stiles repeated slowly, taking one step closer, in case Derek could have missed the depth of anger in the molten depth of his glowing amber eyes. “Up. And left. Me.” The words came out with a very faint lisp, and oops, Stiles had only meant to give him the beta eyes, but it seems he was also giving him the werewolf finger. His claws retracted slowly, so did his canines. He was less aware of exactly when the unnatural hue of his eyes faded back to the usual. There were no changes in physical sensation, aside from acuity, but that was only when clearer vision was called upon. 

Derek looked like Stiles had punched him in the gut unexpectedly. Current Stiles, not past Stiles. His eyes roamed over Stiles’ face as he took in the truth that was just stated. Stiles held himself still, fought against the impulse to jitter or simply pace around, possibly shove Derek a little, knock some sense into him a lot. Derek gathered his wits slowly, and eventually he found his words. “Stiles, just because I bit you doesn't-...”

Stiles groaned, cutting him off. “Not  _ just  _ because you bit me. It doesn't matter who bit me!” He threw his arms in the air and searched for the right illustration to his point. “ _ Deucalion  _ could have bit me I'd still be one of yours! Or Scott.” Derek’s eyes snapped to his, as if this was a shock to him. “We're all yours, Derek.” As if Derek Hale hadn't been the original werewolf in all of their lives. The born one. The heir. Bumbling leader or not, he belonged to them and they to him. They belonged together. A unit. A clan. No matter the eye colour, or the species. “And you left.”

“But you and Scott... You're…”

“Me and Scott are brothers. We have a balance.” It wasn't about alphas. It was about people. Complementary ones. “Me and Lydia have a balance. Malia and I. Jackson and I. Each in relation to the group.” He gave Derek a sad smile. “You and I. We had one too. We were a galaxy, all of us. And when you left... I tripped. Out of my orbit, I guess. We all did. Me, harder. But we all did.” He shrugs. “You left, Der. That's what you'd call _a gaping hole_. It wobbles everything. It upsets the balance of the whole damn thing.” He spread his hands. “Derek. I'm sorry I’m about to be kind of mean but I didn't think I would have to explain to _you_ , of all people, what it feels like when one of your family disappears.”

It was clear as day, the moment the word Stiles had been purposefully not using sunk in. His frown relaxed, expression clearing. Bit of shock, bit of awe. A lot of  _ holy shit _ . “You... I'm your pack? “

“Yeah, you idiot,” Stiles said softly, unable to stay angry in the face of such oblivious innocent from Derek, of the effects the notion had on himself. There was a smile blooming on Stiles’ face in spite of his best efforts to hold it back, a giddy, giggly feeling in his chest to be hearing the words in Derek’s voice. To know the truth of them. “ _ God _ . How could you not know?”

Across the space, he could feel the thrill in Derek, too. The surprise, the confusion, the emotional mess of it all. The relief at not being turned away. “Oh.”

He’d expected to be rejected. To be cast away. This was… Derek, Stiles guessed. There was clearly more work of love to be done before the guy could expect his pack to chew him out when he fucked up while  _ knowing _ , deep in his bones, that they’d stick together no matter what. He should  _ know _ that it goes both ways. Looking at him, Stiles was not really sure Derek believed it, even right this second. “ _ Oh my god _ , come here,” he ordered, opening his arms and gesturing him close.

Derek looked Stiles up and down, and… well. That was actually going back to familiar territory. Derek smiled a little, an eyebrow twitching up faintly. “Are you gonna punch me?” he asked, almost teasing, but not quite there yet, as he took a step forward.

“Yes,” Stiles replied, deadpan, in true _ Stiles and Derek  _ fashion, just as he pulled Derek into a hug.

Derek came, and sunk into the embrace without a tense second of delay. He accepted Stiles against and around his body and wrapped his own back in exchange. That was… good. Good. Progress. Stiles held back the sudden urge to rub up and down his back in a comforting manner, sure Derek would take it as condescension. 

“I didn’t know,” Derek whispered in Stiles’ hair.

Stiles hugged him tighter. “I gathered.” He spoke softly, turning his face into the crook of Derek’s shoulder and sighing in the comfort of  _ scent _ .  _ Derek _ .  _ Pack _ . “It became apparent a couple of minutes in.”

Derek mirrored his position, shuffling his feet to actually settle in comfortably. “M’sorry.”

Stiles patted his waist gently. “You’re okay, big guy. Just. Don’t leave like that again.”

Derek didn't respond verbally, instead, he nodded into Stiles’ neck, his cheek, nose, and lips brushing against the skin there, and he held on tighter.

Okay, then. Derek was back.

He was… in Stiles’ bedroom, engaged in a mutual cling fest. Alright then.

Now that Stiles’ focus was on what they were actually doing, it was… woah. That was new.

Not the hug part. They’d… shared a few. Granted,  _ much  _ much shorter than this. Usually one of two versions. Either  _ go, good luck, please don’t die  _ or  _ thank god, you’re alive _ . With a special mention of particular clinginess and earnestness for that one occurrence of  _ you saved my dad from drowning you’re the fucking best _ .

What was new was the new spectrum of sensory feedback. He understood, now more than ever, why weres were fans of touching, listening, sniffing for clues, but were also much more sparing with full on body contact. Because it was so fucking intimate and overwhelming and  _ whole,  _ as an experience.

Progressively after Scott had turned, he and Stiles had stopped hugging as often and as long as before. Stiles had hardly made note of it, they’d been growing up, changing. Scott had been tactile in different ways, patting his shoulder, slumping against him and so on. But it made a whole lot more sense to Stiles  _ now.  _ Now that he was hugging someone and lingering for a while. He’d noticed, of course, how he could better tell how people were feeling, physically or emotionally of late, through closeness and contact. He’d noticed that being physically near to someone was being  _ a lot closer _ than what it used to mean. 

But now. He could  _ taste  _ Derek almost. He could feel his heart beating about as well as he could his own. He could tell that Derek was still a bit antsy inside, but that it was mostly being slowly overshadowed by quiet, calm joy, and something else. A small, bright innocent yearning, left over from childlike simplicity, that Derek had been trying to stamp down all his life, just to get through it.

It was like the conversation they’d been carrying was continuing without the need for voices. 

Stiles said you’re alright

Derek said I’m sorry I’m so sorry I got scared I felt so powerless

Stiles said I missed you most of all Don’t even break my heart again

Derek said I came back for you

Stiles said I waited I was pissed And i knew you’d be back

Stiles said I didn’t want to want you to be back

Derek said I know

Derek said I’m glad you did

Stiles said welcome home

Derek shivered, tucked his face in closer, and breathed. 

“We’re a small pack,” he whispered after an age. His hand was warm over Stiles’ waist.

Stiles knew he meant the two of them, despite what Stiles’ previous statement. It was ingrained to respect Scott’s status as an alpha. Stiles was going to have to play diplomatic word games to distinguish clans and packs and make them all just… be a thing. Together. All of them. Family. “That's alright,” he whispered back, a smile on his face and in his voice. “I know this other pack. We can make territory buddies. I know they missed your sour face too.” He angled his upper body back so he could look at Derek. He found himself grinning softly, as he leaned in to press their lips together. “We can expand if we want to,” he mused when he pulled back, conversationally. “Have pups of our own someday.”

Derek stared back at him, lips gaping slightly. It was funny. Stiles had gotten to see him be stunned a few times in his life, but it was the first time he could  _ feel  _ it happen with all of his senses. It was pretty epic. He tried not to laugh, or coo, or shiver with the sharp spike of confused  _ joy  _ and  _ want _ that crashed into him from Derek in waves. Blue eyes searched his eyes, flicked to his mouth, then back.

It was actually involuntary to lick his own lips before he spoke, but it certainly didn't escape Derek’s notice, judging by the quick inhale. “Yes, Derek. I just kissed you.” 

More warmth. Derek squeezed his hip. “You’ve changed,” he remarked. 

Stiles smiled, light blooming in his chest. As he grinned up at Derek, he knew his own eyes were glowing faintly gold. He cocked his head to the side. “Not that much.” He leaned closer. “Now, I can just smell you back."

Derek exhaled, caught between a huff of laughter and a sigh. He was the one to pull Stiles in this time.


End file.
